


To Thine Own Self Be True

by HotaruMuraki



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Family Feels, Fluff, Moodiness, Possibly AU, Sassy!Jenny, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, probable canon-inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:46:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotaruMuraki/pseuds/HotaruMuraki
Summary: In another timeline, things might have happened differently. However, in each one of them, there was a Jenny Flint and a Madam Vastra.In most of them, those two ended up together, often even that kind of happily ever after you might find in fairytales.Well, let's see how this one turns out, shall we?
Relationships: Jenny Flint & Madame Vastra, Jenny Flint/Madame Vastra
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27
Collections: Public Call - Doctor Who fic exchange 2019





	To Thine Own Self Be True

**Author's Note:**

  * For [regenderate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/regenderate/gifts).



> This is my humble contribution to this year's Public Call. I sincerely hope it will make you, dear reader, smile.  
> Hopefully, this will work for my recipient, **regenderate** , too!  
> Anyway, please enjoy!  
> Constructive comments and criticism is always welcome.  
> Flames will be used to make s'mores! ;-P

Jenny carefully applied the hot iron to another one of Madam's dresses, humming softly in contentment. This was certainly the easiest job she had ever had. Certainly easier than the long and grueling hours she'd worked in that match-factory ever since she'd turned five. Had the overseer not become a wee bit too handsy when she'd just turned sixteen, why, she might even be working there still!  
Jenny knew as well as the next girl that all healthy men had their...needs. Hell, her Pa had been like that, too, much often to her Ma's resigned acquiescence. Her Ma had given her 'The Talk' when little Guinevere had turned thirteen, after all. She'd explained that it was a woman's duty care for a man's health that way. This was an even more important task for a married woman! Doing such things unwed, however, just made the woman a trollop, a harlot no better than the ones plying their trade in Whitechapel.  
For that reason, though, when young Mr. Sonkins had cornered Jenny at the end of her shift, clearly very much in need of that kind of 'care', all Jenny had been able to think of was her Ma's resigned face as her Pa dragged her to their bedroom after coming home from the factory.  
Before Jenny was even conscious of doing so, her sturdy worker's boot had quite forcefully connected with the man's nether regions.  
Mr. Sonkin's eyes had nearly bulged out of their sockets, he'd wailed like a banshee and crumpled like a wet blanket.

...And a day after that, Jenny had been out of a job. Thanks to the workers who had come running to see what all the ruckus was about the tale of what had happened had been spread far and wide.  
That had been the nail to Jenny's job-coffin, so to speak, since Mr. Sonkins senior had been mightily enraged, yelling loudly about "endangering his only son's ability to procreate" and "upsetting the god-given natural order of things" and many things more that Jenny hadn't really bothered to listen to.  
Jenny had, unlike many of her contemporaries, often wondered about the rather sorry state of affairs for women but... In these times, an inquisitive mind, especially in a female, was heavily frowned upon.  
Her father, after hearing some of the more outrageous rumors, had disdainfully washed his hands of "such a good-for-nothing excuse for a daughter". Her ma... Had cried, silently pressing a hastily-collected bundle of Jenny's things into her hands, whispering of, hopefully, being able to find another job. Not in London, surely. Maybe somewhere further up the Thames?  
Fortunately, the rumor-mill had also carried word of her deed to more open minds and sympathetic ears. Jenny's cousin Thora Ailey, who worked as a maid for Doctor Acton in Paternoster Row, had heard about a job-opening. One of her employer's newly moved-in neighbors was looking for a discrete live-in maid. Apparently, she would even have her own room and the wage was rumored to be 35 £ a week!  
Thora, bless her compassionate soul, had immediately referred Jenny.  
After a thorough and partly downright confusing interview, Jenny Flint, former match-girl from Clerkenwell had been officially hired. She'd found out only about a year later that all this time, she had been working for the infamous 'Veiled Detective'. Now imagine Jenny's surprise whe she had eventually discovered what lay behind that particular nickname!  
Not that that had deterred her in any way, oh no. Quite the contrary, in fact!

Jenny smiled softly in remembrance, carefully ironing out the last crease in the burgundy taffeta dress the tailor had just delivered for her lady today.  
"What has you smiling so warmly on such a dreary december day, dear?" a melodious voice asked behind her.  
Without even waiting for a reply, a muscular body plastered itself snuggly against Jenny's more slender frame.  
The dark-haired girl didn't startle but it was a near thing. Madam Vastra had been behaving a bit oddly ever since the night she'd returned from that mysterious outing...  
On that 9th of November, head of London CID Robert Anderson had paid the 'Veiled Detective' an inappropriately early visit. The two of them had sequestered themselves in her lady's study for quite some time, with Mr. Anderson leaving just before lunch. Only for Madam Vastra to rush out like a kettle about to steam an hour after that. Her lady had not returned until the bells of Saint Paul's had tolled the witching hour.  
She never told Jenny of what had happened but ever since then, Madam Vastra had seemed... Different. More and more out-of-sorts, perhaps. Even Strax had noticed, complaining that "something has dulled your warrior's edge".

Over the course of the next few weeks, her lady's behaviour became even more erratic. Vastra was steadily losing her appetite, she'd withdrawn further even from Jenny and her lustrous rainforest-colored scales seemed to have lost much of their shine.  
Why, just the other day when the two of them had sparred, Jenny had been able to land several hits that would have been critical in an actual fight!  
By now, the dark-haired woman was seriously worried. Hell, even Strax of all people had noticed!  
So that very evening, after the Madam had retired to her bedroom for the evening, Strax and Jenny had sat down in their kitchen to talk. ("Discuss possible strategies and counter-measures," Strax had insisted.)  
What their brain-storming had eventually boiled down to was this: they would wait until the end of this week and if neither saw any change for the better, Jenny would do her level best to consult with their Doctor while Strax held down their fort. ("Our home,"Jenny had claimed.)

Naturally, that plan had been thwarted. The next morning, Madam Vastra had refused to both leave her bedroom and see anyone at all. The Silurian had not even touched the breakfast Jenny had insisted on leaving in front of her lady's bedroom door.  
And no, Strax was absolutely _not_ grumpy about not receiving any feedback on his latest attempt at "creating a nutritionally well-balanced assemblage of tasty victuals".

This had led to one rather frazzeld, irate and over-all worried Jenny Flint climbing the rather spindly-looking staircase up to where the TARDIS of their friend was moored.  
She had politely knocked but opened the door right after and entered without waiting for a reply. The low lighting of the ship's interior had been a perfect mirror of the low mood of her captain. Whom Jenny had found lounging haphazardly in a somewhat out-of-place armchair in the main room.  
"Ah, the lovely live-in lady-maid of the splendid, sophisticated Silurian. What brings you here today?"  
No, today didn't seem to be a good day for their Doctor. Then again, it hadn't been a few good weeks for Jenny either so... 'Tough luck, Doctor', Jenny thought, firming her resolve.  
"I need you help. Madam Vastra—"  
"I'm all out of help right now. And the Madam has been doing fine so far without me." The Doctor waved her off, not really interested in anything further Jenny might have to say.  
Something in Jenny snapped and she stomped towards the Doctor, grabbed him by the lapels of his ridiculous bathrobe, drew him up from his chair and shook him with as much force as she could. (Which, incidentally, was quite a lot since Jenny was very, very worried about her most beloved one.)  
"You—" *shake* "—might not—" *shake* shake* "—care anymore—" *shake!* "—about your friends but!" *SHAKE* "I do!" She let a speechless Doctor drop back into his armchair, her body heaving from the exertion of manhandling someone taller than her 5' 6" frame.  
". . ." The Doctor was blinking in astonishment. He had never before seen Jenny lose her composure like that. Maybe the situation was really more dire than he thought?  
Jenny, realizing what she had done, flushed in embarrassment. This was not how she had been taught to behave!  
". . ."  
". . ."  
"So..." the Doctor rather timidly ventured, "...what happened?"  
With that one question, the dam in Jenny burst and all that had been weighing on her these last few weeks spilt forth, her worry about Vastra, her increasingly odd behaviour and, lastly, Vastra's isolating herself even from her companions.  
The Doctor blinked, unaccustomed to such a deluge of words from such an unusual source. Then he stilled, thinking. "You said this started after she returned on the 9th of November 1888?"  
Jenny nodded.  
"Hm..." He adopted the classic Thinker's Pose. "Maybe it's an unusually extreme reaction to something Va'stra has encountered back then?"  
"You mean maybe she ate something wrong?" Jenny questioned.  
The Doctor wracked his brain. Hadn't here been something happening on that particular date that might have caused——Oh. OH! _That._ "...or some _one_ ," the Doctor mumbled, shrugging.  
Jenny's questions didn't need to be spoken aloud because they could be read straight from her inquisitorial face.  
"Va'stra does occasionally do work for the Yard, doesn't she?" the Doctor inquired.  
"Yes," Jenny confirmed. "They sometimes bring cases to her that leave the regular officers baffled."  
"Ah." The Doctor twiddled his thumbs, honestly not knowing how to best proceed. He did not want to be shaken like a children's rattle again, thank you very much!  
"What." The dark-haired woman just knew the person opposite her had, if not a solution, then at least an inkling of the roots of the problem. She would get him to divulge that - one way or the other.  
Jenny took a measured step towards the Doctor.  
The Doctor scrambled backwards hastily, arms flapping in defense. "It's..." he hedged.  
"What." Another step closer.  
"...an allergic reaction."  
"Huh?" Jenny was nonplussed.  
"From what you have told me, this seems to be a temporary imbalance of what would in humans be the pituitary gland. Since Va'stra is not human but reptilian in origin, this must have triggered shedding prematurely."  
"...shedding!?"  
"Reptilian, remember?" The Doctor smiled kindly. "I suppose Va'stra is embarrassed to be seen during this period and has therefore totally retreated for the time being."  
"Oh." Jenny wrung her hands. How could she not have noticed? Some maid she was, let alone something more...  
"But!" The Doctor gleefully rubbed his hands, some of his old self shining through. "There is a rather easy and possibly pleasant solution for all your problems!"  
". . ." Judging from experience, Jenny was a bit wary of the Doctor's 'easy solution'. Would it involve running for their lives as usual?  
"Oi!" The Doctor actually pouted. "It's really an easy fix. Nothing dangerous, really."  
"Really...?" Jenny questioned.  
"Really," the Doctor affirmed. "Trust me."  
"Okay, I will." Jenny sighed in relief. Finally, these trying days would come to an end.  
"I will write down the answer, so you'll be able to gather all key ingredients post-haste." The Doctor turned around, picking up a piece of paper and something that looked a bit like a steel-nib pen but seemed to actually write without ink, quickly writing down all the parts necessary for helping her Vastra.

With the list in hand, Jenny stood in the TARDIS' door, looking back at the Doctor already slumping back into his armchair.  
"Doctor," she called.  
He raised his head questioningly.  
"It might not mean much to you but... From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your help!" Jenny smiled, curtsying. Then she turned around and began her slow descent down the spindly stairway.  
The Doctor stared after Jenny's receding figure, lost in the vast space of his thoughts.

~ * ~

"Oh my precious, this has been such a wonderful idea," Vastra said, happily splashing about in the large, claw-footed bathtub. "I feel so much better already."  
"Dear, so you really were feeling unwell, then," Jenny saucily remarked, wringing out the cloth with which she had been washing Vastra's back.  
She frothed up a bit more of the Ivory soap with the wet cloth and reapplied the flannel to Vastra's back with gusto. Massaging the muscular back with circulating motions, Jenny carefully helped detach the few remaining patches of old skin.  
The Silurian sighed in contenment, lazily watching as the last flakes of her former hide sunk to the bottom of the tub. Vastra purred. This, this was the life she had always been looking for. With her friends, her family-by-heart. Right here, right now.  
"Thank you, Jenny." She tenderly smiled at her companion, no, her beloved.  
Jenny rested her other hand on one rainforest-scaled shoulder and smiled. "You're welcome... Vastra."  
Had Va'stra been human, she would have blushed at what she saw in her Jenny's eyes. However, she was not so her secret was safe for now.  
Instead, Va'stra found her mouth, without conscious direction from her brain, blurt out,  
"Dear heart, will you marry me?"

~ T H E . . . E N D ? ~

 _"If this shadow has offended,_  
_Think but this, and all is mended,_  
_That you have but slumber’d here_  
_While this vision did appear."_

**Author's Note:**

> Although I think I might have gone a bit overboard with the prompt: _happy/fluffy stuff or character studies/explorations... fun AU's are great, [...] also love found family type stuff_  
>  (Sorry, **regenderate**? ^__^;;)  
> My excuse? Well, the plot-bunny bit me rather late but hard, clamped down and refused to let go.  
> And... How the hell did the Doctor manage to sneak in? I seriously didn't plan for him to even be mentioned! *sweatdrops* Maybe that's why?  
> Oh and by the way? According to the Doctor Who Wiki, Madam Vastra actually did eat Jack the Ripper. Explains a LOT!  
>   
> Fun fact: The title of this story is taken from a quote in Act I, Scene III, of _Hamlet_ by that genius the tenth Doctor met once in 1599 with Martha Jones.  
>   
> Sources used:  
> \- http:/ / victorian-era. org  
> \- How to be a Victorian, by Ruth Goodman
> 
>   
>    
> 


End file.
